


Chimera

by scullywolf



Series: TXF: Scenes in Between [159]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Banter, F/M, MSR, Missing Scene, Mulder's stupid brain disease thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 14:04:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10492491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullywolf/pseuds/scullywolf
Summary: Another late-night phone conversation while Mulder is away.





	

Scully honestly cannot remember the last time she was this bored.

She’s going on night three -- three! -- of this ridiculous stakeout. Originally, she and Mulder were supposed to take turns on the overnight shift. But after the first night, which he’d somehow talked her into taking, Skinner had called Mulder away to Vermont, and it’s been up to her to carry on alone.

On a case she doesn’t for a second believe is actually an X-File to begin with.

She hasn’t been here around the clock, of course. Even if she _could_ stay awake for days on end, Mulder knows better than to ask that of her. But Skinner won’t approve a second set of agents for backup, either. He called her last night, about two hours after he called Mulder away.

“Agent Scully, I apologize for pulling Agent Mulder off the stakeout. Something’s come up that I need him to look into.”

“Just Agent Mulder, sir?”

“For the moment at least, yes. But while I cannot authorize the use of an agent to replace him, I will allow you to rely on videotape for the hours you can’t personally be on-site.”

“Sir, the regulations require--”

“I’m well aware of the regulations, Agent Scully. I’m overruling them in this instance. If Mulder’s work out of state keeps him away for more than 48 hours, we will re-evaluate the situation at that time. Understood?”

She hadn’t even attempted to hide her sigh. “Yes, sir.”

She is, at least, off the hook entirely for the hours the club is closed, and video surveillance covers the rest of the time she’s not here. Of course, she’s still responsible for reviewing the footage in search of their mystery woman. So far, no sign.

She is so. Very. Incredibly. Bored.

The furnace makes a sudden, horrible groan, and she jumps at the sound. There’s a clank, followed by another, and then silence.

“Oh no. No, nono, no, no…”

It doesn’t take much examination to determine the thing is dead. No amount of cajoling, fiddling, or downright begging will get it to turn on again. Great. Because this assignment wasn’t miserable enough already.

***

_“Ellen, do you know if Martha had any enemies? Can you think of anyone at all who would have wished her harm?”_  


It’s nearly midnight by the time Ellen Adderly has calmed down enough to go to bed. She and the sheriff head to their room, leaving Mulder the awkward task of figuring out how he’s going to get comfortable enough to sleep in the absence of his usual background noise distractions. (Or Scully.) There’s no TV in the guest room, and even if there were, his hosts would probably not appreciate him playing it all night, even with the volume down. He’s struck with the urge to go for a run, or maybe just a walk, something to quiet his mind and assuage his guilt over being here in this house, on this case, while Scully is freezing her ass off on a stakeout he insisted they perform, even though he knew _that_ case was flimsier than cardboard.

Ah. There it is.

The thing he’s been determinedly shoving out of his brain ever since Skinner sent him up here. Somehow it was one thing for Scully to suffer through a pointless assignment as long as he was (more or less) suffering through it with her. He selected the case because of what it would afford him the opportunity to do. Could he have just told Scully he was going out of town for the weekend instead? Probably. It’s probably exactly what he should have done. Even if she’d asked questions, he could have made something up.

(That reminds him, he’s still got to concoct a story for why he’s flying to England next week. He hasn’t yet come up with something she won’t want to come along for.)

Groaning, he rubs his hands over his face, then hauls himself off the couch. He tries to walk as quietly as he can down the hallway to the Adderlys’ guest room, cringing when one of the floor boards creaks right outside their daughter’s bedroom. Once he’s safely in the guest room with the door shut behind himself, he lets his breath out in a sigh. It really was nice of them to insist on putting him up, and the dinner tonight was outstanding, but he can’t help thinking he would be significantly more comfortable staying in a crappy motel room.

He jumps when his phone trills in his pocket, and he fumbles to answer it before it can ring a second time.

“Mulder.”

“Mulder? Are you okay? Why are you whispering?”

He raises his voice above a whisper, but only barely. “Because it’s late and the sheriff and his wife have already gone to bed.”

“I don’t underst… Mulder, where are you?”

“I’m staying at the sheriff’s house. He, uh, they both wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“You’re staying at the sheriff’s _house_? You mean I don’t even get the satisfaction of knowing that at least if I’m here suffering for the cause, I will eventually get to go home and sleep in my own bed while you’re spending the night on some crappy motel mattress?”

“Does it help if I tell you I miss you?”

“Not especially at this moment, no.”

“How about if I admit I would actually prefer a crappy hotel mattress to the awkwardness of sleeping in a stranger’s guest room?”

“Again, at this moment, I’d say you are out of your mind. I would happily ‘suffer’ through some New England hospitality if it meant I didn't have to be stuck in this cramped, dirty, inexplicably cold room. I can barely feel my fingers anymore, Mulder. You know, that might be the _actual_ X-File here. It makes no sense whatsoever for this room to be as cold as it is. We've got a projected low tonight of seventy degrees. Seventy! I've been watching women parade around outside all night in dresses the size of postage stamps, without so much as a shiver, and meanwhile I haven't been this cold since Antarctica.”

“Geez, I hope you're not coming down with something, Scully. Have you checked yourself for a fever?”

“...If I tell you I have a fever, can I call off the stakeout and go home?”

“Look, if you want to go home, go home. Although maybe you’re on to something about that room. You know, inexplicable cold spots are strongly correlated to instances of haunting and other spectral activity.”

“Mulder, I’m hanging up now.”

“Well, wait. You called me. What were you calling about?”

“Oh, I didn’t really have a reason. I’m just bored and it’s cold and I’ve still got two hours before the club closes.”

“And you thought I might have some suggestions about how you could warm yourself up?” It’s hard to express a leer over the phone, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t try.

And of course she picks up on it anyway. “Agent Mulder, you wouldn’t be attempting to make sexually suggestive comments to your partner over a government-issued cell phone, would you?”

“What? I would never. I haven’t got the faintest idea what you’re implying, Agent Scully, but if you’re going to misconstrue my intentions, that one’s on you. I was merely going to suggest you try doing some squats, or maybe push-ups. Calisthenics are great for generating body heat under cold conditions.”

“Okay, now I’m really hanging up.”

“Look, Scully, I’m sorry about the stakeout. No, honestly. I know it probably feels like a waste of time.”

“Probably?”

“I appreciate you going along with things like this, even when you think they’re ridiculous. I don’t tell you that enough, but I really do.”

“You’re right. You don’t tell me that enough.”

“Look, why don’t you go ahead and take off for tonight? You can check the video footage tomorrow and see if she shows up.”

“Really? You’re not going to say it’s critical for me to stay here so that I can apprehend our suspect if she does make an appearance?”

“Well, when you put it that way--”

“Ugh, forget I said anything.”

“I’m kidding. Go home before you freeze to death.”

“What about vigilance in the face of privation?”

“Eh, it’s probably overrated. Seriously, go home, Scully. On every previous occasion our mystery blonde was on video entering the club well before midnight. It’s incredibly statistically unlikely she’ll be there tonight if she hasn’t shown up already. I’d say you’ve put up with enough privation for one night.”

“Okay. Thanks, Mulder.”

“Good night, Scully. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”


End file.
